


Inner Struggles

by DealingDearie



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DealingDearie/pseuds/DealingDearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Loki/Sif drabbles for Sifki Week over on Tumblr (hosted by damnitdesiree).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lace

_**DAY ONE:** _ **LACE**

Loki often wondered what Lady Sif wore besides her precious, shining armor, which dutifully decorated her body on most days and nights, clinging to every curve as she sparred with Thor.

He'd see her skidding across the grounds after a particularly hard shove from his brother, locking her knees and planting her feet so that she wouldn't topple over, her red, layered skirt flapping with the motion as she swiveled to parry one of his blows. The tarnished silver of her breastplate gleamed like gold as she moved, so very fluid and natural that it nearly made him jealous, the dark strands of her hair catching the bright sunshine as she smiled, the fallacious color reminding him of the golden hair she once donned, that glow of vanity now a ghostly thing haunting her features.

He'd watch, probably for hours, with a book of spells splayed open on his lap, ancient scribbles scattered in black ink across the parchment, but his attention always wavered, glancing up at her through the strands of inky hair falling in front of his jade eyes. She never knew, of course, her concentration and heart and very soul poured into sparring with her friend, into becoming as gifted a warrior as all those around her, into being the best she could be. Only on certain days, when Thor was tired and worn, could she truly defeat him, but she always put up a long, arduous fight.

That's when she'd vanish, going off to some unknown place to be left to her own secretive devices, and Loki wanted to know where and what that was. He wanted to know absolutely everything about those in his company, _especially_ the one woman deemed worthy in Thor's eyes, the one person that had gained the full approval of his brother. And so, Loki found himself following her, learning her routine to appropriately and quietly trace her every move.

It started with a mere, innocent turn of the head to watch her with his wandering eyes until she was out of sight, but as his magic progressed, he began to master the ability of being in two places at once. It was a handy thing, duplicity, and it allowed him to follow her all the way to her bedchambers. She usually wandered around, taking her dual swords to spar with the dummy figure in a corner of her room-littered with mats and armor and weapons.

He wasn't one for spying, and usually turned away after that, but tonight was different. He stayed long enough to watch her strip off the layers of metal, the chain mail carefully placed on a hanger, as if she cared for it like she would her own child, the swords put on shelves, the various straps about her limbs peeled off one by one. Loki had to wonder if she knew he was there, since the suspense and curiosity was killing him, and the tedious process of removing her shoulder plates began. He rolled his eyes, annoyed, and leaned against the wall (he was glad he'd learned that invisibility spell), waiting as patiently as he could. She removed the last of it, putting each and every piece in its designated place with the utmost precision, and the care she held for the armor was apparent in the light shining through her grey eyes.

Loki, for the most part, was surprised at her underclothes. Thor, who carelessly threw his armor to the floor whenever he was too exhausted to care, only wore cotton shirts and comfortable trousers beneath his armor, but Sif's clothes were complicated.

Her black leggings crawled up to the thin, crimson skirt resting on her slim hips, the material looking soft to the touch. Tucked beneath that was a lacey shirt with short, shoulder-length sleeves, made of delicately patterned satin as dark as Loki's hair, and he could see the milky color of her pale skin beneath its fabric. His eyes widened, and he held his breath so she wouldn't hear him, and she turned from her place near the bed to glance in his direction, the softest curve at the corners of her lips.

Surely, he thought, she could never see him, but she planted a hand on her hip, smirking teasingly.

"Spying, are we?" Sif murmured lowly, her voice silken, and he gaped.

Sif woke with that feeling of panic, so familiar to her, coursing through her veins like liquid fire, burning her up from the inside. Her heart pounded furiously, aching against her rib cage as her cheeks flushed with heated blood, her throat dry.

"Daydreaming, Lady Sif?"

_That voice._

It wasn't often that Sif was caught by surprise, but Loki's mocking voice pulled her far from her reverie, and she turned to gaze over at him, sprawled out on the stone steps overlooking the palace gardens as Fandral and Thor sparred beside them, an open book in his lap, smirking in her direction. She fixed him with an instinctual, automatically icy glare, and huffed condescendingly before turning back to face her friends, her heart still fluttering like some trapped butterfly, yearning and longing for _something_ , the memory of her dream replaying vividly, just like it was real, in her thoughts.

She could only hope that Loki wasn't a mind reader, too.


	2. Silver

**_Day Two:_ Silver**

Contrary to popular belief, Sif was like any other girl in Asgard. She made it her mission to find the most stylish of dresses, and attended each and every feast at the palace, relishing in her high rank. She smiled at the potential suitors that came her way, and turned them all down with a polite nod of her head. She strived to have the best hairstyle every day, and worried over the latest gossip, laughing at the scandalous whispers around her.

And, like any other girl, Sif had a fragile heart, one that got broken too easily.

Seeing Thor dance with all the other women, hold them close like such cherished porcelain, put Sif in a bad mood, and she found herself needing fresh air more than she needed to see her friend's flirtatious habits.

And so, Sif was out on the balcony overlooking the gardens, her eyes raw and red from the tears dripping down her pale cheeks, stray strands of her ebony hair peeking out from her strict ponytail, the gentle wind chilling her arms, bared by the sleeveless maroon dress she wore, hugging her hips more than anything else she'd ever worn. She sniffled, glancing down at her hands, long fingers gripping the railing so tightly that it made her knuckles go white, her polished nails dusted with gold (a color Thor always adored on her, his casual compliments still ringing, echoed, clearly in her thoughts).

She thought, fleetingly, about him, then, that teenage boy she'd known ever since the early years of her life, that one boy she'd always admired, the boy she'd always loved. And to see him frolicking with all of those beautiful maidens, those golden haired girls with the thoughtless, bright eyed gazes-it was nearly unbearable. It tore at her, somewhere deep down, and Sif hung her head low, swallowing past the sadness, taking deep, shaking breaths to halt the tears in her eyes, stinging and burning and distorting her vision.

...

Loki had long since given up the notion that Thor wasn't naïve, and he smirked as his older brother twirled two girls in his arms, dancing with both at the same time. Their eyes were glassy from the wine, but they seemed to be able to coordinate their movements just fine, and their flitting laughs echoed painfully in Loki's ears, their ignorant smiles reminding him of some kind of thin, cryptic veil, hiding the glaringly obvious from both sides. He turned away, bored with watching Thor gain all of the attention, just in time to see Sif standing at the opposite end of the room, looking for all the world like someone had just taken her beloved pet and killed it right before her very eyes.

And what eyes they were. Grey irises caught in a storm of emotion so thick he could just taste it in the warm, humid air, framed by a pale expression of heartbreak, her ruby lips parted in surprise-like she hadn't seen it a dozen times before. She wore a gold band around her neck, tight metal hugging her throat as it bobbed threateningly, her collarbone revealed by the low neckline of the satin dress she wore, blood red cloth wrapped about her waist like some possessive snake.

He blinked, trying not to stare, and saw her turn away quickly, just before she would have broken down in front of the whole court, and make her way to the balcony-one of his favorite places to think. Well that wouldn't do, intruding in one of Loki's sanctuaries. He frowned, annoyed, and followed her.

He had never seen her cry in all of the years he'd known her, and the wetness on her face betrayed her warrior's heart, that stony mask she put on for the world. Sneaking up behind her was easy, since she was too concerned with trying to make herself stop sobbing, and her slender shoulders, appearing even thinner from behind, the gaunt blades sticking out at odd angles as she leaned over the railing, shook with tremors.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Loki asked suddenly, and the girl swiveled quickly, her light eyes wide and round, the shock written in her face. Sif hadn't heard him appear, and she hurried to quell her cries so that the teenaged trickster wouldn't see her weak, but by the look in his green eyes, he'd already seen enough. She deflated, and rested her back against the bars of the balcony, worrying at her thick necklace to distract herself as she furrowed her brow, sniffling quietly.

"What is?" He pointed upward, looking behind her, and she turned to glance up at the sky, dark colors amidst the glittering backdrop of stars, all trying desperately to outshine the pale moon glowing down on her, its gentle, silvery light bathing her features and illuminating her eyes.

"I suppose," she murmured breathlessly, and he came up beside her to rest his elbows beside her own, throwing a backwards glance at the doorway behind them, where Thor could be seen, dancing with two new maidens, small slivers, peeking through the archway, of the golden prince and his entertainment, bubbling laughter ringing through the night.

"I like the moon. It's…peaceful, and it never blinds you." Sif spared him a sideways look and she caught his small smile, such a shockingly genuine gesture on the boy's notoriously teasing face. "Unlike the sun, it doesn't burn you, doesn't hurt you," he cast odd gazes at his brother between his words, and finally looked down at his thin, pale fingers, so close to hers that it made her almost nervous, "The sun is far too oblivious, anyway. The moon, on the other hand, is far too knowing, for things always happen at night." He turned to her, imploring, and she stared, confused.

"But the sun is beautiful," she defended plainly, and Loki laughed, a slow, melodious sound that shook her to the core, a sound so carefree that it surprised Sif, a sound she'd never heard from him before.

"But Sif, look above you. The moon holds an intimate, slow kind of beauty. One must damage themselves to witness the sun's beauty." Sif blinked, swallowing dryly.

"How poetic, Loki." He inclined his head, smirking, and the old Loki was back, that gleam of mirth lying lucid in his emerald stare.

"Always, Lady Sif." And he was gone, swirls of green magic in his wake, and she waved her hand to clear the air of it, frowning as she turned back to stare up at the midnight sky.

Moments later, Sif noticed that her cheeks were dry, and her eyes felt pleasantly cool as she began to smile, Thor's rambunctious laughter floating all around her, but oddly unable to get past that of her own, a new, refreshed lightness lying in her voice.


	3. Floral

_**Day**_ ** _Three_ :** **Floral (AU Time)**

"It's the new _fashion_ , Loki. Stop laughing," Sif murmured playfully, twirling in her new dress so her pale, charcoal eyes could roam over it adoringly, the tea kettle whistling noisily as it sat on the stove behind her. She splayed her slim hands over the thick material, smiling cheerily, her black hair swept up in a tight ponytail, wrapped up with red, polka dot ribbon, sitting high at the back of her head, her bangs combed apart, so that they arched over her head, as they covered her forehead, the curled ends of her hair brushing against the nape of her neck as she turned around to stare at her husband, who watched her curiously. The short skirt of her dress fanned out as she circled, the flowered print standing out in their plain kitchen, petals of red and blue and yellow mixed together atop a background of white material, and her waist was cinched with a thick, cherry colored band, which left the bodice loose around her frame, her pale arms thrown up over her head as she danced, the sleeveless top moving with each motion.

Loki leaned against the counter, laughing, his black hair cut short and combed over, parted at the side of his scalp, his grey suit wrinkled from his leant over position, shaking his head mockingly as he moved to grab her hands, pulling them down to her waist. Her black and white heels clicked against the vinyl, checkerboard floor as she scooted closer to him, laughing, her rosy cheeks heated with blood. He bowed low and kissed the back of her hand, his green eyes glinting up at her as he smirked against the skin of her fingers, and he straightened to twirl her around, the drifting notes from the radio matching every step she took, her hips swaying with the music as he danced around her, sidestepping as she moved forward to grab both his hands and twirl backwards, laughing as freely as she'd ever laughed, his smile in her mind.

He tugged her in and stretched both of their arms to either side, smiling as he leant forward to kiss her, a brief, fleeting contact that put the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and his black dress shoes tapped against the tiles as he let go of one of her hands to pull apart from her, using his momentum to take his place beside her, his right hand in her left as they both moved backwards.

He pulled her back toward him and twirled her a third time, placing his hands on her hips to steady her as she thumped against his chest, and she rested her chin on the lapel of his suit jacket, smiling with her red stained lips. He wrapped his hands about her waist and pinched the flowery cloth between his fingers, smiling thoughtfully.

"It's a nice look on you," Loki breathed quickly, and Sif stretched out on her tip toes, despite the three-inch heels making her taller, and wrapped her pale arms around his neck, pulling him down toward her as she pressed her lips to his, her warm palms slipping through his slicked-back hair.

"And you need dancing lessons," she murmured against his mouth, and swore she could feel the vibrations of his amused laughter deep in her bones, the heat of his body making her forget about the kettle, beckoning her attention, just behind them.


	4. Striped

**_Day Four:_ Striped**

Having been introduced to Easter recently, Thor was in the holiday spirit, dyeing eggs and decorating the palace with bright colors that Jane had deemed "Easter appropriate". When the plastic eggs weren't colorful enough for the prince, he took it upon himself to hand paint their shiny exteriors, adding bands of pink and blue and yellow wherever he wanted, the concentration gleaming in his eyes as Jane, stifling her laughter, sat beside him, watching her husband paint the stripes of orange with love shining in her gaze. Loki hadn't been too interested, when at first he'd heard of his brother's hopes for celebration, and that, coupled with his sister-in-law's expectant expression, only strengthened Thor's resolve.

Sif had remained blessedly uninvolved, and the trickster found himself looking to her for counsel, completely baffled by how the goddess had managed to worm her way out of the direction of Thor's pleading, puppy dog eyes. When he at last asked her, she smiled, her light eyes shining from within, the dark strands of her hair tucked behind her ears.

"When he tried to rope me into dyeing the eggs, I smashed one against a wall. He didn't ask again."

Loki, after laughing for half an hour upon seeing Thor again, the story fresh in his mind, was ready to throw quite a few eggs against a wall when Easter finally came, swearing he could see the colorful dye still staining his pale fingers-even after countless washes. The only thing to even remotely abate his worsening mood was that secretive, slow smile Sif gave him from across the room when Thor's little girl waddled up to him, wobbling on her small, chubby toddler legs, her blues eyes bright and mystified as she held a pink and yellow egg in her hand, offering it up to him.

He shook his head at her, managing a tightlipped smile as his discomfort at being crammed into one room with most of the Asgardian population increased tenfold, bumping shoulders with Darcy as she glanced over, smiling apologetically at him.

"No one likes that egg. It's not the kind that has candy in it," he muttered breathlessly, Darcy's elbow cramming into his side as she struggled, futilely, to scoot farther away on the large couch, her efforts useless because of the sleeping Volstagg to her left. The young girl gave him a funny, teasing look, and he swore she picked it up from him.

" _You_ don't have candy in you, but people like you," she retorted curtly, and, wide eyed, he began to laugh, clutching his stomach as she glared at him petulantly, and Sif covered her mouth to quell her own body-racking chuckles, doubled over as she reclined on the opposite sofa. Thor and Jane, curled up together as they talked about all of the hiding spots they'd used, glanced over, confused, at Sif, laughing beside them.

Shrugging at her husband, Jane stood to clap her hands together, promptly ending the echoing chatter and gossip of the rest of the people in the room, and all eyes turned to her-all eyes except those of Loki, who was still bent over, smiling, shaking his head at his small niece.

"We have to get into teams, and then we'll go find the eggs. Whoever finds the most wins a prize," she announced loudly, a small smile gracing her features, and immediately picked Thor to be first on her team. Their daughter turned, looking up at Loki, and placed the colored egg in his palm, folding his slender fingers over it with care.

"You can be on my team, Uncle Loki," she said plainly, expectant, and he smiled, his mood completely lifted, his gaze softening as he glanced up to Sif, her hands placed in her lap as she stared, the softest curve at the corners of her lips. He leaned in close to the girl, smirking, his eyes glowing brightly in the candlelight.

"Aunt Sif would be of better use. She's great at finding things," he whispered, and she stared at him disbelievingly, pouting.

"But you're good at this kind of thing."

He shook his head slowly, raising a brow.

"No, no. Actually, Sif once found something I didn't even know existed."

Sif, listening intently from the distance between them, was rapt with attention, her ashen eyes wide with expectance.

"What was it?"

Loki, not bothering to glance back down, only stared at his wife, and she could have sworn she saw that steely gaze of his soften, just a fraction.

"My heart," he murmured lowly, and the noise of the crowd around them was lost to the all-encompassing grace of Sif's sudden laughter, her teary-eyed smile melting him where he sat, the moment forever ingrained into his most cherished memories.


	5. Candles

**_Day_ _Five:_** **Candles**

One of the most annoying things about being in a relationship with Loki Odinson was, in fact, being in a relationship with Loki Odinson, and Sif was learning that lesson the hard way.

His penchant for pranks was apparent in each trick he played on her, joking or otherwise, and he never apologized for scaring the living daylights out of her-referring to the 'snake incident'. The rare moments he showed her genuine affection were dampened by the many instances that he ignored her attempts at a more intimate relationship, and he simply shrugged when she tried to start an argument with him. It was exhausting, and the worst part was that she could go to no one for advice, their involvement being a closely kept secret. She had often thought of going to Frigga, but any counsel from the queen would simply be something along the lines of 'have patience', which was an attribute Sif was running quite low on, as of late.

Loki, acting completely oblivious, glanced at her from across the large feast table, looking so horribly bored that even she felt a bit sorry for him, seated next to his brother with that look of dread flashing in his dark eyes. After around an hour of pointless conversation, he wiggled, just ever so slightly, his slender fingers, and while Thor remained ignorant, she knew.

Something bad was about to happen, and she could only hope she wouldn't be the victim of another joke.

Somewhere down the row of people beside her a woman shrieked, and Sif, after throwing a quick glare toward the smirking trickster, stood to find the source of the commotion. In the midst of the near chaos, she spotted a blonde, petite woman with youthful, bright brown eyes, her pale cheeks flustered as she struggled to cover herself, considering how she was only in her thin, low-collared nightgown, when a moment ago she'd been attired in her best dinner dress.

Turning with a heavy sigh, Sif saw Loki containing his laughter as Thor gaped beside him, giving him a knowing look that the dark haired magician returned innocently. Sif, however, didn't fall for it, and saw the way his eyes wandered every now and then to the fretful, embarrassed woman a ways down the table, the corners of his lips turning up far more than they should have.

Infuriated and annoyed, Sif stormed out of the feast hall, her hands curled into fists as she hurried down the corridor, muttering obscenities beneath her breath as the sting of jealousy sliced sharply through her, her thoughts straying. At the corner of the hallway, where the blood red curtains hung against the walls, was a spiraling column, and the orange, flickering light of the candles lining the passageway shone brightly on the revealed portion of the gold painted wall behind the curtain, which was halfway pulled back so that the writhing shadows behind it could be seen.

Curiously, she crept forward, careful to silence her footsteps the way Loki had taught her, intently eavesdropping and far too angry to care about the fact. Immediately, she could recognize the shape of Loki's body, his lanky silhouette a stark outlier in the burly, muscled population of Asgard, and she spotted, quickly, the shadow of a woman in front of Loki, her outline pressed so close to his that it was nearly impossible to differentiate the shapes.

Distantly, Sif heard quiet laughter and the gentle, soothing sound of Loki's small murmurs, and the furious pounding of her heart made fresh blood heat her cheeks.

Angrily, she reached out to pull the curtain farther aside, and just as the billowing fabric moved away, there was nothing behind it, and the shadows vanished, just like they were never there at all.

Stumbling back in confusion, Sif furrowed her brow, and stopped abruptly when her back thumped against something solid, and she twisted around defensively, ready to throw the person to the ground, before a pair of cold hands fell upon her hips, snaking around to her midriff as she gasped, surprised. The palms resting against her stomach felt all too familiar, and she at once relaxed against him, the bird-like fluttering of Loki's heart felt at her back as she swallowed.

He leaned forward to rest his chin on her shoulder, and she could feel his wide smile forming against the sensitive skin of her ear as he chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated down her spine, making her shiver.

" _Lady Sif_ ," he whispered enchantingly, the hot puffs of air landing against her jaw, and he brushed aside the curtain of dark hair resting atop her shoulder to reveal the pale, milky skin of her neck, bringing his lips down to it, "you shouldn't trust your eyes. Sights can be awfully deceiving."

Splayed out on her abdomen, his fingers became intoxicatingly warm from her body heat, and he snaked his hand up farther to rest just beneath the left side of her collarbone, his palm laid flat against the top swell of her breast. He could feel the weighty pounding of her heart, kissing the skin at the crook of her neck as he smiled.

"Perhaps you should put more faith in this," and he pressed his hand into the heated flesh of her chest for emphasis, the sensation of the drumming of her heart against his palm making his own beat noticeably faster, "rather than what your eyes tell you. It could work in your favor."

Swallowing past the growing lump in her throat, Sif turned in his tight embrace, stopping to face him as she glanced up, the light dancing with the shadows over his face.

"I might just take your word for it, Loki," she breathed huskily, and the true smile that flashed across his features had her chest aching for an entirely different reason.


	6. Telephone

_**Day Six:** _ **Telephone**

"Thor, stop messing with it or you'll break it," Loki reprimanded seriously, frowning as Darcy laughed at the thunder god, trying puzzlingly to type a message into her iPhone, his thick fingers pressing two buttons at once upon the touch screen.

"I'm being careful," the blonde replied thoughtfully, his bright eyes reflected in the text box on the phone in his iron grip. Sif, standing with her hand resting against her hip, hovered just behind him, her elbow resting on the back of his chair, her eyes flickering searchingly as she stared, amazed, at the piece of technology.

"And mortals use these to communicate?" Sif asked reservedly as Darcy smiled enthusiastically, gazing at Thor's small movements, and he finally managed to send Jane a text message.

"Yeah, all the time," the assistant murmured absently as he handed her back the phone, smiling proudly at his accomplishment. Sitting beside Thor, curled away as far as possible on the small seat, Loki rolled his eyes, and Sif scooted over to the back of his chair and placed her warm, soft palms on his shoulders, smiling down at the top of his head as he relaxed against the cushions.

"He's excited. Be happy for him," she whispered beneath her breath while Darcy and Thor began to talk animatedly about how he could acquire a phone of his own, and the girl smiled as she told him he'd have to be on Earth to use it.

"I know. It's just…these mortals-"

She squeezed his shoulders comfortingly, interrupting him as he relaxed his head to gaze up at her, his green eyes wide and bright with the light caught in them.

"Are just that. There's no need to get jealous."

Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to his brother, and Sif twirled a strand of his hair around her finger, wondering when Loki would give in to the curiosity no doubt gnawing at him (and she was, admittedly, hoping he'd finally ask to see the phone, so that she could do the same without him glaring at her the entire time).


	7. Crimson

_**Day Seven:** _ **Crimson (It's angst day, guys)**

At the conclusion of every scenario Loki had conjured up in the fractured thoughts of his mind, he'd never expected this kind of outcome, and he couldn't figure out where he'd gone wrong with it all. He had predicted everything up to the final moment, that crucial point in time where his true allegiances would be brought to light. He had never really been sure, anyway, what side he would take, but he'd known that, despite what happened, blood would be coating his hands at the end of it.

He'd just never foreseen _who's_ blood, and he was regretting the natural, haunting assumption he'd made that it would be Malekith's. He'd never sat down and thought long and hard about all of the other possibilities, and he was chiding himself on the action, or lack thereof, as his fingers shook threateningly, dark red staining his pale hands as he glanced, too soon, down at the ground, which was flooded with puddles that glistened scarlet in the shadows cast by the leaden clouds floating overhead.

He was sure, and horrified by the fact, that the warm spots on his face were due to the small dots of red littering his skin, after being sprayed with blood, and the sensation only unnerved him further. Loki hadn't counted the wildcards, hadn't expected any, and he felt ever the fool as he cradled her, just like he would a frightened child, in his arms, green eyes red and raw with the tears dripping down his cheeks, mixing with the dark liquid already there.

He'd never dreamed that she- after so many glares and threats, after all of the bad blood between them, after each year they had drifted and all the times he'd let her down, after that simmering look of hatred gleaming brightly in eyes that once gazed at him so adoringly-would sacrifice herself, and for _him_ , of all people. And it was that surprise, that complete and utterly devastating shock, that pulled the question from him before he could stop its outpour.

" _Why?"_

Around them, Thor and Jane and the Warriors Three stood forlornly, some sobbing and some trying not to, fearful of coming too close to Loki, who was hunched over Sif's trembling body just like a statue, deathly still. Sif coughed, small dots of ruby clinging to her armor and spotting her lips, the mail at her chest broken and pierced and covered in blood. It caked the dark strands of her hair and painted her fingers as she clutched at his arm, his own armor torn and bent, the leather ruined and stained and missing in places.

With his palm pressed to the hole in her chest, the blood gushed around his fingers, and he could feel the failing pound of her heart, fluttering like a trapped bird's wings, just as fast and sure as it had all those years ago, her body pressed to his, so awfully familiar to the feel of her heart as they'd danced, or as she'd curled up with him to keep his nightmares at bay, or as she'd hugged his back when he was turned. So familiar, and yet so horribly foreign, for he knew that the strong certainty of each beat was limited, and that each rattling breath-and he compared the sound of it to when she'd gasp after one of his sudden pranks-was numbered.

He knew that the light in her eyes, always so bright and vivid, was dimming with each second passed, and that the strength in her grip, always a reliably steady thing, was quickly dwindling. Her cherry lips curved up at the corners, and he was brought back in time, brought back to the moment Thor had dragged him along on one of his sparring sessions as a child.

_He saw a girl there, standing with her wooden sword and determined expression, her grey eyes lit up with a fire Loki'd never seen before, glimmering brightly with the lingering promise of a fight, her golden locks pulled back in a tight ponytail. The sting of jealousy soared through him. So this was the 'Sif' Thor had rambled about, her tiny fingers gripping the weapon like it was destined to be held in her grip, a small smile turning her lips up, a miniscule, triumphant gesture-but the fight hadn't even begun yet._

"There are some things…you don't forget," she choked, her body convulsing with each syllable, and Loki frowned, shaking his head.

"But you will. You _will_ forget," he whispered, lowly so that the rest of his comrades wouldn't hear, and her smile widened, her brows knitting together after a fresh wave of pain. He blinked away tears, the water blurring his vision and making Sif seem like one hazy, bloodied image, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he sighed shakily.

"And I'll forget," he murmured hoarsely, fresh tears rolling, coldly, down his skin, heated with the grief threatening to swallow him.

"Time will pass and years will go by and I won't remember." He didn't mention how he wouldn't remember the exact hum of her voice, or the specific lull of her honeyed accent, or the vibrations of her melodic laughter. He didn't say how he'd forget the way the light made her eyes shine brighter than the sun, or how her skin looked at night, pale flesh awash with moonlight, or the tender press of her palms at his back when he needed her touch the most. He didn't say that he'd forget _her_ , and the precise way she was, or how she acted, or the small mannerisms she carried with her, or the shade of her ebony hair as it basked in the haloed glow of the sunlight shining down on her, making her look for all the world like an angel cast out of Heaven.

Loki didn't even think to remind her that he would lose her, just as he was losing her now, every day of his life, when he realized he couldn't remember another thing about her, and the thought sent him shaking with renewed grief as she relaxed in his loose embrace, her lips parted as she tried to breathe one last time.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, and he brought his forehead down to hers, closing his eyes against the burn of tears.

"As am I," he said beneath his breath, his lips brushing against her nose, and he could feel her smile at his neck, feel the slow movement of it against his skin, but he was too afraid to look down, and so he just ran his slender fingers through her tangled hair, murmuring soothingly as her smile fell.

He could sense it, heady in the air, and he let her face flash in his mind.

_Bright eyed and defiant, arguing with him before he kissed her, the slow tremble of her touch as she hugged him, the soft tone of her whispers late at night, the shine of her smile as he twirled her on the balcony, the flicker of her wandering eyes as he tried to read a spell book, the sharp point of a sword as she knocked him to the ground of the sparring court, the betrayed fall of her smile, the husky sound of her threat, the hatred lying in her eyes, the confused glance she sent him when he saved her life, the widening of her eyes as she moved to run in front of him, falling upon the ground with that damned sword piercing her chest._

Opening his eyes, he moved to press a kiss to her forehead, and refused to let her go, even when her body, so warm and alive and familiar, went still.

And Loki, for all of the times he'd sworn that he hated her and the life she stood for, couldn't look down, terrified of seeing the burning light in her eyes extinguished.

**Author's Note:**

> Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)
> 
> All rights go to their respective owners.


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